The Little Things Give You Away
by Rose Tinted Contact Lenses
Summary: Written with Spaced20. "This, my dear, is a book of tales - tales of love and loss, might and magic, joy and despair, princes and dragons and witches..."  Linked shorts collection taking place in Blood Of the Magi, Armour and original universes.
1. The Book

**The Little Things Give You Away**

This is a collaborative project between Spaced20 - who created the idea in the first place - and Rose Tinted Contact Lenses: a collection of short stories taking place in the ficverses of _Blood Of The Magi _and _Armour, _as well as one ficverse made just for this, with an over-arching narrative linking them all together.  
>Feedback is appreciated!<p>

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><p><strong>The Book<strong>

Her quest has been in vain, the Chantry funding for nothing. There is no temple here - the Ashes are something she will only ever have seen once in her lifetime.

Poor Brother Genitivi had been heart broken.

How can an entire temple just… _disappear?_

Perhaps the Maker willed it so. It is a comforting thought to the young bard as she pulls her cloak closer to her form, her Seeker armour doing little to fend off the icy wind that is blowing in from the Frostback Mountains.

Her heart sinking, she turns to walk back to Haven and back to civilization, when something catches her eye - a piece of brown in the snow. _Leather?_

Bending to pick it up, red hair blowing into her face, she finds that it is a book, somehow unharmed in amongst all the melting snow.

The muddy book is big, like an old Book of The Chant, and its thick brown leather cover is decorated with some sort of strange yellowish-red substance that feels unpleasantly …fleshy.

Emblazoned on the back cover is a rather attractive - if slightly bizarre - oval symbol criss-crossed with jagged, spiky lines.

_How very interesting_, she thinks. Something the dragon's cult had hidden away? It is something to investigate, at any rate.

Starting down the hill, the book heavy in her arms, she promises herself she will study it... when she can sit somewhere. Preferably with a fire, and food that hasn't been in her pack for three days….

Redcliffe isn't far, but somewhere a bit more comfortable and with more shops would do her a world of good.

Denerim, then?

Well, Alistair and Elissa did issue an invitation - if she ever needed somewhere to stay, they said...

She smiles. It will be good to see old friends again.

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><p>He enfolds her in a warm hug the minute she arrives at the palace, clapping her on the back. Ah. Shinier armour and a kingdom to rule, but same old Alistair. "Leliana! It's... been a while, hasn't it?" His tone is slightly apologetic, but there is plenty of warmth there also.<p>

"That it has, my friend. How are you? Your lovely wife? Little Rose?"

The aforementioned "lovely wife" enters the courtyard holding Rose's hand, the two of them laughing about something, the child's golden hair gleaming in the sunlight.

Elissa is postively glowing. The life of a queen is certainly treating her well. Her wonderful hair is tied in to a rather exotic bun, shaped into what seems to be a flower.

Elissa lets go of the child's hand and quickens her pace at the sight of the bard.

"Elissa..." This time Leliana hugs the woman first. "There are many stories to tell."

"And I look forward to hearing them!" says the more famous Warden, but Leliana's attention has already moved on to the child, her grin becoming ear-to-ear at the sight of the little girl - she has always loved children. She would see the children left in the Chantry whenever she could in her time as a sister, as well as the ones who used to play outside it.

"Ah, and this must be our little princess..." She crouches down to get a better look at the child. "You have your father's hair," she murmurs, "and your mother's nose. A lovely combination." She raises her voice to normal levels. "So you are Rose. It is lovely to see you again, little one - last time we met, you would have made a nug look big."

The child giggles shyly, wide-eyed curiosity filling her striking blue eyes - _Maric and Cailan's?_ Leliana wonders. _It seems that some things skip a generation_ - before asking, "Are you Auntie Leli?"

Leliana looks up to her two friends, who are looking slightly sheepish, and wonders what tales Rose has heard - good ones, she hopes. "Ah, so you have heard of me. Yes, I am."

With all the naivety and lack of knowledge of social norms that is so often endearing in a child, Rose hugs her, and Leliana smiles into the child's hair, keeping her small hand from the scabbard of the dagger that rests upon her back. For, even with such fine rulers, there are always unsavoury sorts in Denerim, are there not?

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><p>She sniffs the wine. A fine Orlesian, if she's not mistaken. A crackling fire, two of her good friends, and a comfy chair... contentment washes over her, and she doesn't think it is the wine.<p>

Elissa returns from reading Rose a bedtime story - "she's impossible to get to sleep otherwise" - and turns to Leliana. "You said in your letter that you'd found something of interest."

She gives a slight nod. "Yes. Not the temple, unfortunately..."

King and Queen exchange a look, trying not to grin. The temple was where Elissa managed to blurt out that she thought he was handsome - things were never the same afterwards, but the changes were the best possible ones. Well, there was the fact they were getting little enough sleep on the road before the couple felt the need to prove the rumours about the Wardens' legendary stamina true -

She cuts that train of thought off, finding that the couple aren't the only ones suppressing a smirk. Back to the matter at hand. "... But this." She opens her pack, retrieving the heavy book and putting it onto the table - it lands with a loud thunk.

Alistair and Elissa approach it with caution and a little reverence, probably expecting holy scriptures, but she clarifies quickly. "Anything sacred would have gone straight to the Chantry. However, this..." A slight frown crinkles her forehead as she gestures to the book, "... This is a book of stories." She looks up. "I had thought... not everything must be studied by the Chantry immediately. Perhaps you would like to share these tales with me? And Rose... well, she likes a story at bedtime, does she not?"


	2. The Boy In The Tower

_Expect more of Leliana and the royal family soon. Onto our first story..._

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><p><strong>The Boy In The Tower | Spaced20<br>**

I did not know how he survived.

Every single guard had been massacred, limbs torn from torsos and blood spilling across the stone floors in an ocean of dark red.

It was impossible.

_He_ was impossible.

I look at him, my mouth open in what must be a embarrassingly idiotic look.

He's just standing there. Surrounded by darkspawn corpses.

Just. _Standing_. There.

Andraste's hairpins this is mad. Just…. mad.

The Maker himself must have shielded this little boy from the 'spawn's biting blades and gnashing teeth.

"Are you alright?" I ask eventually, having started my recovery from seeing the impossible.

He does not reply, but fixes me with simple eyes, a small bemused smile on his thick lips.

"We need to get you out of here. You understand, boy?" I tell him, waiting for a nod, a word, something... I am not acknowledged.

I do not stop to think that this blessed child is probably safer within the thick stone walls of Fort Drakon, rather than in the fire filled streets outside.

I grab his arm and begin to pull him along. He doesn't resist, and his short legs seem to automatically begin to work quickly to keep up with my longer ones.

"What is your name?" I ask the boy.

I receive no reply, just another forlorn look from those puppy dog eyes. Maker, the madness of this day…

Another deafening roar of protest from somewhere above my head, animalistic and vengeful, and a flicker of... _fear?_ crosses the dwarven boy's face.

I do not stop to consider the immortal beast that made such a sound as we begin to descend one of the circular staircases. The sounds of war are filling the cathedral-like reaches of the tower. The sound of steel against shield; of steel against exposed flesh. The roars of victory and the howls of agony seep together to create an unbearable scream of carnage.

We run on. The boy is keeping his pace well, unburdened by armour that curses my own mobility. How could he _possibly _have survived? He's clad in nothing but the simple wool tunic all of the town's civilians wear.

We reach the colossal entrance hall of the Fort, and an almighty quake that causes the very floor to shake and the ceiling itself to howl in protest sends me into a stupor as my senses are overwhelmed by the exodus of noise.

"_Maker!_" I yell over the din, trying desperately to keep my footing as the ground shakes. _"What in all of Thedas is happening?"_

The boy yells in what I can only think is horror.

The ceiling is cracking - huge slabs of falling concrete, each enough to crush an ogre, are falling all around us. I pull the gibbering boy into a corner and shield him with my own body, my armour protecting the boy, as best as I can. I clench my teeth and seal my eyes shut, flinching from the sound of every falling boulder as it crashes down to the floor.

After what feels like an age, the racket ceases. The ground is still and the walls are stable.

I can hear something else.

I can hear cheering in the distance.

"Is it over?" I ask my young comrade dumbly, and he shrugs.

Has the beast fallen? Is this Maker-abandoned ordeal _finally _over?

I grab his hand and pull the dusty boy to his feet.

"Come," I say, picking my way over the rubble. "We should see what has come to pass."

I hear someone speak behind me, in a voice that cannot possibly be called _human_. It is so quiet that it takes me a moment of consideration to understand the words. _"Farewell, Urthemiel... my dearest sister."_

I look around, concern on my face, but see nothing but the boy. It must have been my imagination. It has been a very long and trying day.

I smile and grab the boy's hand, guiding him over the fallen masonry.

"Come my friend!" I say heartily.

I am sure I imagine what I hear as I turn round to guide him across the burning remains of Denerim, again seemingly from the boy's lips, "_We are Three now._ _No more must fall to this taint."_

After a moment, the boy grins up at me.

"Enchantment!_"_


End file.
